


we’re gladiators (we fight for ourselves)

by Pawprinter



Series: Simple Pleasures [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Light Angst, Parent Bellamy Blake, Parent Clarke Griffin, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23798872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pawprinter/pseuds/Pawprinter
Summary: 2199 days have passed since they left the arena.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Simple Pleasures [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504826
Comments: 34
Kudos: 116





	we’re gladiators (we fight for ourselves)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostinthesounds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthesounds/gifts).



> Today marks one year since I finished posting Simple Pleasures! When I noticed this date coming up a few weeks ago, I was instantly hit with the need to write for this universe again so here is a follow up one-shot.
> 
> Fun fact! The content in this fic was the original epilogue, but I ended up changing it last minute. The outline for this fic has been sitting on my laptop for a year and a half! Hopefully it’ll provide closure to some of you as it answers some of the more frequent questions from the epilogue.
> 
> This fic is dedicated to Jen, who constantly supported and loved Simple Pleasures, even when I temporarily destroyed her heart by killing Bellamy. I appreciate you more than words can express.
> 
> The title of this fic is inspired by lyrics from the song “Glory and Gore” by Lorde.
> 
> Enjoy!

_ She used to think time was so solid. _

It was a concept she sought comfort in. Time passed the same for everyone. Nothing — not even the Capitol — could change the way the small hand on her father’s watch moved. No matter how much someone may have wanted time to stand still — maybe to let them live in a single moment a few minutes longer, or maybe to say one last goodbye, or maybe to hang onto the tidal wave of joy and bliss that came with free laughter — nobody had that power. 

Not even the President of Panem. 

Not even the Head Gamemaker.

_ Time was an unyielding and undefeatable enemy; it was an unforgivable and immovable ally. _

Clarke used to count hours, and days, and weeks and—

She didn’t anymore.

Instead, she counted milestones and memories and joy. Her life wasn’t ruled by time, just as it wasn’t ruled by the Games or the Capitol. She wasn’t stuck in a jail cell for a crime she didn’t commit.

_ She was free. _

Not just from prison. Not just from the heavy hand of the Capitol. Not just from the fear of the Hunger Games used to keep citizens in line.

_ It was so much more than that. _

When she first woke up after the arena, Clarke wasn’t sure if she’d ever feel free again. She was familiar with the demons in her mind and all the new ones she picked up while in the arena. She lost her father, her mother, her friends, her allies, people she loved. One by one, they slipped through her grasp. For a long time, she relieved those moments. 

Other times, she’d relive moments where she was on the opposite side of the sword. Clarke doubted she’d ever forget the faces of the people she murdered in the name of survival. She’d see them in her nightmares, a constant reminder of the pieces of humanity ripped from her hands.

While the trauma from the arena still plagued her, it was better.

_ She was better. _

The first few years had been rough.  _ Survive first. Then you can learn to live with yourself again.  _ It was something Kane told her right before she entered the arena. Clarke struggled with the second half. Learning to live with herself again — learning to live with all the memories and the demons and the nightmares and the trauma — it was hard.

It wasn’t a task on a to do list, either. It wasn’t something that she could do in a single day and be done with.  _ It was on-going and always changing.  _ It required work, and patience, and forgiveness, and love.

_ Love. _

She had plenty of that in her life. Clarke wasn’t sure if they would’ve survived that first year without the other. Maybe it wasn’t a healthy way of living, but it was how they survived. They leaned on each other — used each other as a crutch — until they could learn to stand on their own again.

Love didn’t heal her.  _ He  _ didn’t heal her. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t realistic. But having someone that supported her and loved her unconditionally — knowing that she could turn to someone when she felt like she was drowning, knowing that she could tell him anything, knowing that he supported her — it helped.

As he helped her, she helped him.

Healing wasn’t as linear as time. Clarke learned not much was linear in the real world — in the world beyond Panem and the Games. Life was messy and complex and  _ good. _

Life was good.

It had taken her a long time to be able to say that.

Clarke glanced out the window that pointed west. The sun was just touching the horizon, casting a purple and red hue across the cloud-covered sky.

She worried her bottom lip.  _ He was late.  _ Clarke tried not to be concerned about this — so many things could’ve gone wrong, so many things could’ve not gone according to plan.

But it was Bellamy.

_ She’d always worry about Bellamy. _

A high-pitch squeal rang out from in front of her. Clarke’s reflexes kicked in and she grabbed the small girl before she toppled over. She was laughing so hard that her eyes were shut with glee and her knees buckled under her.

“Careful, Asteria,” Clarke said, unable to keep a smile from her lips. There was something so beautiful and joyful about watching a child laugh uncontrollably. It was the same joy she felt when she saw their daughter smile for the first time. It was irresistible and impossible to contain a smile in her presence. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Brown eyes blinked up at her. They were filled with so much joy and freedom and  _ innocence.  _ This was a child that would never know fear from the Capitol; she’d never know the uncertainty of reaping day; she’d never worry about going to the Games or losing friends to the Games.

Clarke reached forward and smoothed some of the baby hairs at the top of her head, running her fingers through the waves. The girl’s nose wrinkled and she pulled away.

“Mommy.”

Clarke dropped her hands and helped right the child. “I know, I know.” 

The girl skipped away from where Clarke rested on the single couch, continuing to run circles around the barren room. There were still many rooms for them to explore, but that sounded like tomorrow’s adventure. After a day of travelling, Clarke was exhausted.

She watched Asteria run. Maybe time wasn’t as linear as she thought. It felt impossible that she was turning two soon. “Gods, you’ve grown up so fast.”

While she wasn’t  _ grown up,  _ exactly, she wasn’t a baby anymore.  _ She wasn’t their baby anymore.  _

Asteria Raven Griffin-Blake was born in the fourth summer after they escaped to the North. She was named after the Greek goddess of the stars. The stars had always been something her and Bellamy clung to; they were the promise of a better tomorrow.  _ Asteria was that promise, too;  _ with her, they made the promise of a better future for the next generation — one that could live like she did, free of the torture and fear of the Capitol.

She was also named after Raven, a friend they lost too soon in the arena; a friend that gave everything —  _ who gave her life —  _ to ensure they lived.

When she turned back to Clarke, she was out of breath and smiling again. “When’s daddy coming?”

Clarke swallowed her own fear, putting on a brave face. “Soon.”

_ She hoped. _

Hope, hope, hope.

For a while, she hated hope. It wasn’t  _ real  _ enough for her — it wasn’t tangible. People used to tell her to have hope she’d have a better life, to have hope that she’d make it out of the arena, to have hope that things would be alright. She wanted more than  _ hope.  _ She  _ wanted _ those things. She wanted to have a better life and she wanted to be alright. Clarke was willing to  _ work  _ for it too, not just sit by and  _ hope  _ it would come to her. Clinging to hope felt like wrapping a bandage around a fatal wound. 

Yet, here she was, clinging to hope that the plan went off without a hitch; hoping to all ancient deities that Bellamy would follow through; hoping that things would be alright.

Clarke glanced towards the window impatient.

_ Please. _

They both knew the risks that came with this mission, but the reward outweighed it all.

He’d been gone a fortnight already. While Asteria’s questions were borne from missing her father; Clarke’s questions and worries came from a place of fear.

She tried to remind herself that the sun hadn’t set yet. That was the promised time.  _ Two weeks to the day, meet Bellamy at the furthest southern cabin. He’d be back before the sun was set. _

As they waited, Clarke counted days, just to be sure. She didn’t expect a different result — not really. She’d already counted and recounted the days a dozen times on their journey to the southern cabin earlier that day.

The next time Asteria stopped her running, it was to examine a bug on the wall. With delicate precision, she brushed the round bug onto the palm of her hand and cooed at it, her eyes wide and shining.

Clarke would never get old of watching a child’s wonder at work.

The third time the toddler stopped, she launched herself at her mother’s legs, relying and trusting her to catch her once again before she fell. Clarke didn’t disappoint and scooped her back onto her lap.

“When are we going home?”

Again, her answer was one from a place of hope. “Soon.”

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Asteria asked to look out the window. She originally tried to get permission to go outside, but the thought of letting her run free while they were so close to the border made her chest seize up. The window was a compromise.

Asteria had always been a child of the forest. She was born in it, she was raised in it, she lived in it. She lived and breathed for the feeling of damp moss under her bare feet, and the sounds of birds in the mornings, and the roughness of bark against unsure fingertips. Even during the journey from home to the southern cabin, she found the energy to skip around patches of bushes and jump through trickling streams and search for bugs in the mud.

The view out of the cabin was boring, being too far away from the woods to see any animals.

The treeline was several dozen meters away from the porch of the house. She could still feel the axe in her hands, and the blisters across the pads of her fingers, and the scorch of the sun above her as they worked for countless weeks to take down the trees surrounding the cabin.

_ The more space between them and the forest, the more opportunity they had to see an incoming attack. _

Old habits died hard.

With her daughter perched on her hip, they watched the sun inch towards the ground. Clarke knew it wouldn’t be too much longer until the ground swallowed it whole.

_ Then Bellamy would be late. _

“When?” she pressed, jostling against Clarke. She was getting impatient.  _ Clarke was too.  _ “When?”

“I don’t know, baby. We have to be patient and wait a little longer.”

“Why?”

“We have a plan. You know how daddy likes to plan.” She soothed her daughter by brushing her hair from her face. “Remember when he planned mommy’s surprise birthday party?” She nodded. “Yeah. This is daddy’s plan, just like that. Do you remember how good that turned out?”

“You cried, but happy,” she recalled.

“Right! You’re so smart.” Clarke pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. “I was  _ so  _ happy when daddy surprised me. We’ll see him soon.” She snorted softly. “Do you think mommy’s going to cry this time?”

“Mhmm. Daddy too.”

Clarke smiled at her daughter’s confidence before turning back to the window. Over the next several minutes, Clarke answered several more questions the best she could. She wished she had more answers to give; she was tired of the unknown.

The sky was growing darker.

The air felt heavier.

She tried to ignore the way her heart pounded and the way dread crashed against her like the tide.

On instinct, Clarke glanced towards the front door of the cabin. Her sword — the one gifted to her from the Capitol — was propped up against the wall. Her eyes traced the worn hilt and the blade adorned with memories — both good and bad alike.

“Daddy?”

Clarke rested her forehead against her daughter’s shoulder and allowed her eyes to slide closed for a long moment. Maybe it was the long journey they took today, or maybe it was the stress, but her head was  _ pounding. _

“Yes, baby. He’ll be back soon; so soon that—”

Asteria impatiently squirmed in Clarke’s arms, itching to get closer to the window. She pulled back from her and glanced towards the forest, expecting to see a doe or a bird or—

_ Bellamy. _

The world seemed to stand still.

Her breath caught in her throat when she recognized his silhouette and she was hit with the overwhelming feeling of  _ relief.  _ Pure, blissful relief. It wasn’t until this moment did she realize  _ just how truly terrified she had been. _

Their two silhouettes were framed against the setting sun; the outlines of backpacks and swords eerily echoing the arena. If Asteria wasn’t balanced on her hip, Clarke would’ve sworn she was six years younger and back in that abandoned city.

_ Six years. _

It had been six years since she saw the Blake siblings side-by-side. It had been six years since she saw Octavia at all; she’d been living in Panem as a Victor ever since she won their Games, while they’d been exiled to the North.

She let out a sob mixed with a laugh and took off. Her legs moved faster than they had in a long time. Wooden floors of the cabin turned to soft dirt of the earth. Her muscles burned as she pushed herself harder, racing towards them.

_ Faster, faster, faster. _

Her vision blurred as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her stomach was filled with butterflies, making her feel like she was free falling. It felt like her chest was about to burst with emotion.

“Clarke! Asteria!”

Bellamy had dropped both his backpack and sword where he stood and was sprinting towards them too. Within seconds, they reached each other, colliding with practiced coordination. 

Her hands were shaking. Her whole body was alight with adrenaline.

Bellamy’s arms wrapped around both her and Asteria, pulling both of them to his chest. Her free arm snaked around his waist, holding him as closely and tightly as physically possible. Asteria also clung to Bellamy, having abandoned her mother’s hold for his.

Their kiss was messy and wet, filled with emotion and adrenaline. Her thumb swept across his cheeks, replacing the wetness from his tears with her own. They broke the kiss with a breathless laugh, both too overjoyed to keep it in any longer.

“Daddy!” Asteria chirped, her hands grabbing fistsfulls of his shirt. Bellamy pressed another quick and chaste kiss to Clarke’s nose before turning to their daughter.

“Hello,” he cooed. “I missed you. I missed you so much.” He peppered her hair with enough kisses to make her squeal with laugher. Her legs kicked against Clarke’s arm from the joy she was feeling.

“You’ve been gone too long,” she told him. 

Her nose buried against his neck. She was hit with his scent, which only added to her emotion. Clarke could feel the steady beat of Bellamy’s heart against her body. She felt the warmth of his skin against her own. She felt the love in his touches, the tenderness of his glances, the desperation of his voice.

Home.

This was her home. 

“I missed you both so much,” he said, his voice grovely. Alternating between the two of them, he pressed kiss after kiss to their skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Asteria let out another squeal and nuzzled her head in the crook of Bellamy’s neck. With her out of reach, he turned to Clarke, his eyes wide and sparkling.

The second time they kissed, it was slower and more careful. Despite it being years since their first kiss, each brush of the lips still filled her with butterflies and made her heart race. His fingers run down her back. She gripped his shoulder to steady herself.

When they broke apart, he pressed his forehead to hers. The world quieted in that moment. She felt at peace with her partner and their daughter in her arms. Her eyes slid shut to savour the moment.

“While I love the greeting, you should’ve waited inside,” he mumbled, breaking the moment. “We could’ve been anybody.”

Clarke snorted and pulled back from him the slightest bit. She didn’t move far, not wanting to leave his arms just yet. “I knew it was you. I’d recognize you anywhere under any circumstance.”

(After all, she knew his body almost better than her own after all this time.)

“Mmm. Well. I’m not complaining.” He pressed another quick kiss to her lips. She marvelled at his beauty, from the way his eyes crinkled with a smile, to the way his freckles seemed to capture the night sky, to the way his smile made her heart race. “We should head in. It’s getting dark.”

That brought Clarke back to the moment. She peered at the single silhouette in the distance over Bellamy’s shoulder. Suddenly, her heart was racing for an entirely different reason. It had been so long since she saw Octavia that she was almost a stranger now.

“How is she?”

Bellamy’s smile faltered. “Shaken up, but she’ll be okay.”

Clarke’s eyes raked down his body. “And you? You’re okay?”

“Getting there.”

Satisfied with those answers for now, she nodded and stepped out of his arms. Her gaze flicked one final time towards the enigma before settling on her daughter.

Bellamy leaned towards her, as if he was sharing a secret for her. “What do you say? Are you ready to meet your aunt?”

Her eyes lit up in a way that made Clarke’s heart melt.

As the three of them started towards Octavia, Clarke couldn’t help but think about  _ time. _ So much had changed since the days of the Games, and they still had so much time left to live.

_ They had all the time in the world. _

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s a wrap :) I always intended on coming back to write this idea and, now that I have, I am satisfied with leaving this universe now. Thank you all for reading Simple Pleasures and any of the one-shots I posted as follow ups. Unless something changes in the future, this is where I will end Bellamy and Clarke’s story.
> 
> Thanks for tagging along & supporting this fic! Even if you read this several years after it is posted, I appreciate you.
> 
> As of 2020, I’m still Bellarke trash. so. hmu about bellarke endgame theories on [ Tumblr](https://pawprinterfanfic.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/pawprinter1).
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated.
> 
> Paw


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